Disappear
by Yuval25
Summary: A OneShot piece of a scene of life long after the battle. Spoilers for all of the books. Focuses on Harry's point of view. Please R&R!


_Hey. It's a bit depressing, but that's what I came up with. I hope you'll like it. I wanted to continue this as a crossover, but I think the ending here is malicious-grin worthy. Well, on this happy note, enjoy!_

**Disappear**

**By**

**Yuval25**

Harry has never felt so tired in his whole life. His body was drained from energy, and the magic he had was simply not strong enough to support him. The screams of pain echoed in his head and he wanted to run away. The blood… he has never seen so much blood in one place. Well, perhaps he had when Albus was born, but this was just ridiculous. How could his daughter have so much blood in her body? It just wasn't possible.

Another scream from the young redhead made his head pound. "Just one more push, dear, for me! Push one more time. That's it. Breathe." The Healer instructed. Lily screamed and Harry's hand felt like it would break. Did she have to hold it so tightly?

"Come on, sweetie, you can do this. Little Kenny is waiting for your hug." His wife said softly. It was a wonder Lily heard her over the screams. Merlin, women can scream.

A minute later, a scream-and-curses-filled minute later, Harry heard the cry of a baby. It was small and not loud at all (though that could have been the courtesy of the ringing in his ears) but Harry could feel his heart skip a beat. His first grandchild was born. He felt so old. At only forty six years old, his daughter made him grandfather. He couldn't hold it against her, either, because he approved of the man his daughter chose, and she _was_ a legal adult.

The baby, like all of his children, nieces and nephews had been, was pink and bloody. The Healer wrapped him in a blue, soft-looking blanket and after a 'huwift' sort of noise the baby was no longer attached to his mother. He was placed in said mother's arms not long after.

Harry was terrified and thrilled when he saw his grandson; his Kenny, Ken for short. His eyes were wide, and Harry could see a beautiful green color. He smiled; his genes are apparently strong. The head was crowned with a few ginger hairs that marked most of the Weasley family.

Ginny looked at him. She was glowing. Her own hair was still furious red, and kept its color like Harry's did. Harry loved it. Her kind eyes twinkled with wonder and joy. He couldn't help the huge grin that stretched over his lips.

Lily was looking at little Ken, occasionally kissing his small nose or playing with his tiny hands. The father, Lily's husband, kissed Lily's lips and stroked the baby's head. It was the picture of the perfectly happy family. But, of course, the eyes of the baby caused tears to well up in every woman's eyes and put knots in every man's stomach. The recent death of Albus Potter was like a humongous, warning-yellow elephant in the room.

No one mentioned it, of course. It was a shame if someone were to ruin the total happiness and calmness in the room with the unfortunate subject. It pained them none-the-less, though.

Albus's fiancée, if fiancée was the right term for lovers who can't get married, did not handle the news well. The bottles of Firewiskey kept disappearing from the shelves of the closest shop to what had once been the home of the two lovers, and the unshaved, red-eyed man refused to contact anybody. He was wallowing in grief and did not stop mourning even after all these weeks.

The Potter family tried to take care of Scorpius Malfoy, Albus's boyfriend since sixteen years old, but he didn't let them. He distanced himself and closed off to the world. He would not let go of Albus's picture. He was a mess, truly.

Later that evening, an even more exhausted Harry Potter met up with his best friends while Ginny took care of Lily. They didn't go to a bar or anything of the sorts. Hermione, who had been affected greatly by her nephew's death, made sure to keep Harry away from those. He had been a mess. That is, more than now.

"So, mate, you're a grandpa. How's that feel?" Ron asked him. They were sitting around the campfire they built (magically, of course) with muggle marshmallows. Ever since Hermione introduced them to Ron, he's been addicted. Seriously, it was worse than Arthur's latest obsession with toasters.

"Old." Harry answered. He couldn't realize why he agreed to meet up. He was tired and didn't feel like talking. He suspected he had a migraine, though migraine was simply not a strong-enough word for what he was feeling.

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I can't imagine how I would feel when Rose chooses to have a child. I mean, I don't even have wrinkles!"

"Rose won't have children." Ron said in all seriousness, "She won't have a husband, won't have a boyfriend. She won't have sex and won't kiss! Ever!"

"Keep dreaming, mate. In the end, you'll have to face a dimwitted boy with a large nose and a tendency to be obvious." Harry snorted.

"Are you calling me dimwitted?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Every girl marries her father." Harry said simply, and with authority. It was clear that he wanted to burst out laughing.

"Ew… That's really disturbing." The look on Hermione's face said it all – you're disgusting, Harry.

"It's true," he said, "Look at Lily – she married some short, crazy-haired bloke."

"And look at Albus – he chose to partner a blond, Malfoy bloke." Ron chuckled, and then his expression became grave. "Sorry."

"S'fine." But it was really not. Harry wouldn't admit to anybody how shallow he has been since Albus's death. He knew Ginny saw parts of it, and he knew Hermione and Ron saw it like his mask was made of glass. It didn't do anything trying to hide his pain from them, but he couldn't help it when the mask came up and he fell back years. He used to do it, masking his pain in hope it will go away. The problem was it always blew up in everyone's faces.

"You know," Hermione put her hands together and rested her elbows on her knees, "I sometime wish we weren't here. I wish we were someplace else, without all the pain and suffering. I plan it in my head sometimes, how we pack our bags like we did when we were seventeen, and camp up in a tent by a river, without kids or jobs or deaths. I build up a whole scene when life gets too much."

There were tears rolling down her cheeks. Ron hugged her close with one arm, kissing her hair. Harry who sat by her knees covered her hands with one of his and leant on her knee. She was sobbing. Harry felt a tear tickly its way to his chin. He was ashamed. He was ashamed because he felt the same. He wanted to escape, too.

"Imagine it – only us, surrounded by the wild. I won't have an injured shoulder this time. Hermione would put up wards that will keep us safe from everything and everyone. We would have open space to practice our magic. We could invent new spells and potions. We could build a Quidditch pitch and play all we like." Ron said dreamily. He was trying to calm Hermione, who was now gasping quietly into her hands.

Harry moved to sit on Hermione's other side, putting his arm around her waist and leaning into her shoulder.

"And then the fairies would grant us wishes and we'll live in a palace with princesses and princes and everybody will live happily ever after." Harry said grimly.

Ron and Hermione looked at him with frowns and scowls.

"We have families to take care of. I was just made grandfather, and Ginny has to have somebody to take care of her. She does not cope well with what happened. Who else can be Teddy's family? Andromeda's dead, so she certainly can't. We have to get realistic. We can't just throw everything and run away."

"We know that." Harry noticed Hermione said 'we' and not 'I', as in, she and Ron were a unit completely separated from Harry. He didn't like it. "But, Harry, wouldn't it just be nice to do exactly that?"

"Yeah, it would. But I'm done talking about that. It only depresses me."

"Fine," Ron grunted.

They talked some more after that, but nothing compared to the heart-to-heart they had moments ago. Their conversation stayed close to facts and less to thoughts and emotions. The sharing ambiance all but disappeared, leaving them with awkward silences and small-talks.

When they finally fell asleep, they didn't notice a cloaked figure approaching them, wand in hand and already murmuring incantations.


End file.
